Cuts Like a Knife
by Dance Elle Dance
Summary: A purveyor of death should not be that beautiful. SenecaGlimmer, oneshot


_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own The Hunger Games. _

_**Summary: A purveyor of death should not be that beautiful. SenecaGlimmer, oneshot**_

_There are several takes on these two as a pairing, and I found that I just couldn't get them out of my head. And with some encouragement, I decided to write for them. I really hope this little crack pairing starts to get more love, because I absolutely adore it, even though this particular fic is short. Anyway, please enjoy! I'd love to hear your opinions! _

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**Cuts Like a Knife**

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"_Hello, my name is Seneca Crane. I'm the Gamemaker for this year's Games."_

She thinks that might be the moment she is drawn in by him. The moment in which he introduces himself, so calm and quiet and confident. She'd always liked her men like that, thinking rather than blurting out everything. However, she knows that people might think differently after seeing the way she hangs on the boy from Two.

Glimmer knows what people think of her - _Oh, that girl from One. She's none too bright, right? But boy, she has a pretty face._ That's pretty much the consensus. It's funny how something as trivial as looks can influence people's thoughts so. Just because she has a "pretty face" automatically puts her in the bracket of people who aren't taken seriously. At least by the general public.

She's from One, after all. Trained for the Games, living for the day that they are called down during the Reaping. People seem to forget that in light of her looks, finding that they are more drawn by her blonde hair and tall frame than the fact that she can snap a guy's neck with just a twist of her hands.

But now is not a time for bitterness, and she finds that as she opens the door, her heart is in her throat.

Now is the time to get a high number. Strategically, people would want to aim for a low number, so there isn't too big of a target on their back, but she isn't the type. She wants to show off. Everyone expects the Careers to get high scores, anyway. Besides, there is the little alliance she has with Marvel and the tributes from Two. If she has to admit anything to herself, it is the fact that she feels a bit arrogant.

All of that arrogance is drained from her as soon as she lays eyes on the controllers of the Games - in particular, Seneca Crane.

Glimmer ignores the little nudge that tells her, _You want to do good to impress him, as well._

She studies him as she walks to the weapons they have splayed out. Someone that peddles death for a living should not be that beautiful. His dark hair, those light eyes, the fact that he seems almost predatory as he watches her - all of it entrances her, gives her a chill, thrills her for reasons that are all too obvious to her. It's almost like practicing with a new weapon, the fact that she can get hurt and simultaneously learn a new way to kill someone. Like the first time she played with her throwing knives. They had cut her and drawn blood, but then she had let them fly through the air and into the trunk of a nearby tree, and she had grinned despite her red-stained palm.

She inhales deeply, allowing her eyes to drift upward to the platform in which they are standing. She is one of the first people they have seen, so of course they are on point in their attention towards her. Even if she was the last person, she'd make _sure _they paid attention.

Seneca - she can't think of him as anything else - looks at her, his eyes bright and intelligent and calculating. She wonders if he sees her as just a pawn, knows that it must be true. She tries to figure out what he sees when she looks at him. Someone that will get sponsors? Someone that will screw everything up? Someone that could be a possible Victor? Someone who only uses her looks to get ahead?

Glimmer isn't sure she wants to know.

She knows she has her faults. She giggles too much, flirts too much. She sometimes uses men to get what she wants. She is not perfect, but she is not hopeless.

She guesses she just doesn't want Seneca to imagine these faults on her.

Shaking her head, she begins her show. She makes sure to do everything correct, technical to a fault. She has practiced with Marvel since she was young, and it shows. Every knife hits its target, every spear goes through the sandbag. The only issue she has is with the bow and the arrows. They were never her strong suit, but she's better than most. It hits just off the bull's eye every time.

Her show ends, and she stares up at the Gamemakers, sitting high and mighty on their platform. She makes sure to meet _his _eyes in particular.

A haughty smirk comes across her face. She's never been able to help that particular facet of her personality.

Seneca looks at her, a quizzical look to his otherwise predatory exterior. Even beneath that calm demeanor, she knows that this is his job, and he is always excited to see a tribute that would up the ante for his Games.

He gives her a nod in recognition of her abilities. The people around him take notes, attentive to a fault, as a few of them sip wine from their glasses.

She does not stray her gaze from his, and she will not let him look away from her.

And he doesn't.

She sees him set his jaw, all business and cool demeanor, even as he says, "Thank you, One."

"My pleasure, Seneca," she replies purposefully. She doesn't care that it is disrespectful to call him by his first name, and that precise, confounded look he gives her is worth it. It's a small bit of rebellion, but she figures it's harmless.

Though exactly how harmless remains to be seen, because the look that Seneca gives her as she leaves the room is hardly innocent.

_Bring it on, _Glimmer thinks, turning and meeting his eyes once more before the door closes and breaks the connection.

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_**End.**_


End file.
